


Not Familiar

by 2BeorNot2Be



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Be nice to me, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16707679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2BeorNot2Be/pseuds/2BeorNot2Be
Summary: An unexcepted arrival at the town of Birmingham leaves a strong impression on its residents.He was not familiar with someone like her, and she neither him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am trash. be nice to me.

…

“There is this new doc in town, acts like a real one but _from the east”_ The last word was spoken like a slur, which in these parts it did leave a stain.

“But she don’t speak like one, couldn’t understand what them Chinese were saying to her down at the market.  She doesn’t act like she around here at all. Like she got full rights.” The dirt faced irish factory worker spit onto the wet bucket on the floor.

“But John, didn’t she fixed up that lady next to ya when her face was hurting?” Said the older man next to him.

“Sandie? Yeah she did. Women wouldn’t stop raving about her afterwards either; eating rock carrots right in front of me to spite me, that bitch. Won’t stop talking about how not even one of her patients ever died in her care. She’s booked up now. People fighting to get to her. Its only been a month ‘esus”

The older man who was washing down his scotch only laughed, “Your just angry you got that later appointment, you will die before you see her.”

“Shut your trap Mclan, you’re only a couple weeks before me.”

This was not the first time about hearing about the new chit that came into town. A supposed real learned women after the rumors of her Chinese witchcraft died down. I saw her walk down the lane the day before the last. She looked young, like a girl who should still be following her mam instead walking the streets alone. I thought she was one of the whores in the market before I got a look at her face.  She walked straight and gazed looked up the sky and not around her. I still haven’t made the decision if that was foolishness or confident.  

“Tommy, a new one for you sir?” I didn’t need to glance up to know it was Bill with his white apron and swiping a cloth along the glasses.

“No, got places to be today.” I slammed down the glass mug I had before leaving the Garrison.  There were some ruffians some streets over that did not quite understand that this whole city was under the Peaky Blinders control and I planned to remedy that.

 

.

.

.

It was a week later, that I saw her with a dark circle around one of her eyes. But she still waked straight, head held high. She only glanced down to avoid the puddles. For some reason it may my eyebrows furrow, and it took me a second to realize that it was because of anger. Someone touched her. But men were heavy handed in this area. In really, all areas.

So I kept still leaning against the wall, watching the street until I saw some men approaching her. The way they were snickering and throwing their elbows around spoke volumes. I saw it plenty of times before, she was going to get robbed and at best shoved around.

I exhaled the smoke from the cigarette as I watched what happened next.

She did not cower, choosing to step aside them. Spitting words that made them men still before one had a look in his eyes and made to grab her.

He only had her for a second before my feet were eating up the distance between us and my fist was flying onto his face. And as he stumbled and cursed at whoever threw the punch, I took advantage of this grab his coat and throw him down. Giving him a kick onto his stomach with my new loafers. Enjoying the dirt and mud that were caked on him.

I started to hear the voices around me. “That’s Tommy, you fool! Get the fuck up Gerrick, it’s the Peaky Blinders!” It appeared his cohorts realized who exactly I was and I looked around to see a crowd gathered.

I looked around the see the startled gaze of the Asian girl. She had dark eyes and surprisingly her height almost matched my own. 

“Look here, I did not realize I needed to say this on my turf. Thought hitting women was something I didn’t need to teach, but this girl here is in protection of the Peaky Blinders. I don’t want to see any more disrespect.”

I spoke this while gazing at her confused face. I heard the crowed murmuring an asset, while the man with Gerrick pulled him up harshly while nodding towards me and hastily dragging him off.

She looked much younger in person. And it only took one second to realize that she was not some common whore without a grain of sense. Her eyes were sharp but not in a vindictive way the women here grow up as they realize the world around them. But in a way that seems to catalogue information, but she looked kind. Looked pure, even with the marking on her face that looked like purple paint blotted on.

“Thank y-“ I interrupted her, “Where did you get that from?” I didn’t need to clarify.

She grimaced before answering, “A man who caught me unawares in the alley next to the bar. Stole my purse too.”

“Well you won’t need to worry about that anymore. Not here at least.”

She tilted her head, “Thank you sir. The help is very much appreciated. But I assume there will be a catch coming soon.”

Ah she was quick to know help was not always free.

“I am interested in your services.” A dark look clouded in her eyes and I could almost feel her winding up.

But I quickly deflated this by continuing, “-I heard you know something about healing.”

And then she smiled and it made me lose my train of thought for a second before I snatched it back.

“Yes I do. I am a doctor specializing in oral medicine. And I will be quick to mention I am not some red powder blowing quack. I have two degrees spanning from 8 years in higher education including my doctorate in dental surgery in America.”

That was her accent. American. She didn’t speak the irish brogue or had the curving of the words like the Chinese. She spoke clearly if not a bit sharp. What in bloody hell was she doing here?

But more importantly, “A women with a legitimate license?” I placed my trust in the response her patients had, not in her phony license. A women in that field? She needn’t bother to embellish the truth if she wanted to be taken seriously.

And from the look in her eyes it seemed she was tracking my thoughts quite accurately. “Well I suppose around here, the facts are in the pudding. From the rates I am charging, it should make no difference if I am as qualified as you think I am or not if the outcomes are the same.”

“Well if what I hear is correct, the rate is not the matter, but that waitlist you have.”

She wearily nodded, “I can only see so many people each day. If you want things done right, proper preparations must be in order and precisely don’t you know.”

“I see. But since I saved you from this mugging and the future ones as well since I placed you under my protection. I think we could make a good beneficial relationship.”

“And pray tell, what would that entail?”

“You will be our private doctor. When we need you, you will come and in exchange you won’t have to nurse anymore black eyes.”

She gently touched the bruising on her face while biting her lip. Looking too young. And she quickly turned to me, searching my eyes. Not many had the galls to eye me up in such as manner.

After a moment she spoke, looking content at what she found. “I will not be your corrupt lapdog doctor. I will still serve the public, as is my duty. I will come during emergencies. But do not think I will be abandoning lives at your whim, every patient is equal to me.”

“Even those?“ I gestured towards the scum that had tried to mug her.

She nodded solemnly, “Even those. I made an oath.”

She was one of _those._ I refrained from rolling my eyes. It was good practice for a person in the medicine I supposed.

“Fine. Looks like we have a deal.”

I was about to walk away when she cleared her throat. I looked at her, and her pointedly looked down at her hand stretched out to me.

A handshake.

I indulged her. Ignoring how soft her fragile her hands felt on mine. These were not the hands of a coal miner or anyone that worked with their hands.

And she spoke in the odd accent she had that cut right into me. “In the animal kingdom, researchers call animals that have a beneficial relationship to each other mutualism. The ones where one feeds off the other is accordingly parasitism. Let’s strive for the former, shall we?”

She looked pretty as she smiled and I dropped my hand away from than this longer than accustomed to handshake.

I spun my heels and walked away. I had plans that needed to be acted upon.

And it took me until the night when lighting my opium stick, that I realized I did not even know her name, but she was in my dreams.

.

.

.

The next time I saw her there was a bullet in my chest. Arthur was shouting around me and holding a rag to my heart. I supposed it missed my heart, seeing how it been a few minutes and I was not dead. It was a close call. Billy Kimber. That fucking cockney speaking bastard.

I wheezed out, “Get the fucking girl.”

“What Tommy?” Arthur shouted right in my ear. I was weak but not weak enough to shove his face away and say, “Get that Asian doctor, right now Arthur you goddamn idiot.”

She had been only a street away. And she came into the house in a flurry. Taking one look at me bleeding on the table surrounded by my brothers who were holding graspers before cursing and shouting instructions.

“Boil some water! Right now on high.” As she threw some of her own tools into the pot. “And give me those things.” She angrily grabbed the tools my brothers were holding and looked at them with disgust before chucking them away. 

It looked like she had some pre- ripped fabric on hand. Pulling out pure white cloth from her bag that soon stained crimson as she pressed it against my wound. Throwing the bloody rag that was there before away onto the floor.

She had a canteen with her. And she poured some on my wound. Before replacing it with a clean cloth and putting pressure on it.

I distantly watched her grab John’s hand to replace it with her own as she quickly pulled my face into her hands pointed my face towards the windows.

“What the bloody hell are-“ She shushed me. Looking at me intently. At one of my eyes as she pointed my towards the light and then away while she mouthed out a count as one hand was resting on my throat. I realized she was checking my pulse. She looked satisfied, giving a nod.

“Bring me the tools in the pot and a bowl of water.” Even prideful John followed her orders. While Polly and Ada were in the corner. Polly whispering some prayers while holding her cross.

She leaned me back. Saying some words about gravity and to let tissues spread to get to the bullet. Her hands were completely steady and that’s when I realized how much I was at ease to let her take over and essentially hold my life in her hands. Arthur could take out the bullet, we were in war together. We took it the shrapnel with our fingers. But I was not stupid in letting him operate on me than letting this girl with her shiny instruments, even if I did think her license was a quack. Especially since Arthur’s hands were shaking so much after I had been shot he dropped a bottle when we got in the house.

She pushed something into my mouth, and I automatically drank down what she gave me.

Her hands never stopped moving, but she continued to talk to me. “That is my own homebrew for the pain. It wont help now, but it will in an hour when your shock wears off and you feel all of this.”

“Who has the most steady hands?”

“Polly or John” I grit out. Breathing through the bout of pain as the wound was prodded open.

Polly stepped forward.

“Now this is to open the wound, I need to be able to see clearly. Try not to stretch more than how I show you, and do not lose your grip.”

“You hold him shoulders down. He may start thrashing and you must keep him still, what I am holding is sharp.” She had pointed at John.

John came and clamped a hands on my left shoulder as Polly hovered over my right where the bullet had entered and had not exited.

“No one touches the wound except me. I do not know how clean your hands are” She said, her almond shaped brown eyes that were alight and narrowed.

I heard Arthur muttering something in the background about how clean her hands could be.

And then she opened to wound to which I grunted. But it soon turned into a shout as I felt her piercing me open.

“Arthur hold his legs down.” Polly shouted.

I was pinned down by the collective force of my family. And although I should be appreciative, I felt bloody mad.

But it lasted only 29 seconds. Although each second felt excruciatingly long as the pale faced girl was prodding at my insides.  

I felt the distinct clatter of the bullet falling into a dish and my strength left me as I laid there lax on the dining room table.

I watched as John and Arthur looked on with impressed face while Polly send out a thank you prayer while wiping a cloth across my brow.

Then I focused on her. I had not noticed that she had such long hair. Even when tied at the top of her head, it resembled a pony’s tail. Long and brown and silky. And the owner of such hair was pushing away Arthur who was holding a half empty whiskey bottle.

“No, we will not be using that to sterilize. I have something of my own.” And it was clear but smelled extremely pungent.

She poured it liberally onto a cloth before quickly placing it over my wound. And I shouted something hoarse, as I felt the burn encompass me. Wheezing when she let off pressure and opening a jar with green paste. I looked at it even more dubiously.

“The hard part is over now, this is going to help heal and soothe. No stings. I promise.”

I looked up at her sharply. Indignant at her tone especially towards the end.

“I have been through worst, sweetheart. And seen worst in the war.”

“To which I have no doubt, Sir. Now please lay still.” She said in a quick fashion. She rubbed the cream around the wound and it smelled like herbs. Before binding my chest tightly but not too tight to where I could not move.

“You did not stich it up.” I accused. Wondering if she forgot.

“Yes well I have been experimenting, and your wound is quite lateral.  If I tie in such as fashion and you do not move around, the wound will stich together quite soundly. No need for needle and thread. But I will bring it out if I think you will disobey my orders and starting walking around.”

I was being threatened. Tommy Shelby was being threatened and nobody in the damn room was saying anything.

I looked sharply at hot headed John who never abided by any insolence towards me. John shrugged his shoulders and looked to Polly who just raised an eyebrow to me.

I let out a breathe. I always did hate the needle the most when it came to any recovery. So be it.

“John you are in charge for the next two days of the office, work out the schedule with Arthur and keep me informed.”

.

.

.

I woke up to a cloth being rubbed on my head. My eyes flew went open and my hands grabbed at a skinny wrist. Before the pain struck and I groaned. Blinking to get the dust out of my eye, and then I saw her. Hair up in a pony tail, wearing dark breaches this time. What odd sense this girl had.

“Well at least you are awake. You had a slight fever, which can only be expected. It’s a way your body copes with this sort of trauma.”

“You need to eat but more importantly drink. You lost quite a bit of blood. And I was able to dribble some down your throat when you nodded off. Its better if you drink what I made.”

I looked to my bedside table where a steaming cream type soup lay.

I spoke to her slowly, “You do this to all your patience?”

She smirked, “Only to the ones I like. Now do I need to spoon feed you?”

I gave her a dry laugh. “Will not be necessary, although sweet of you to ask darling.”

I saw her roll her eyes her face losing the hard edge I saw yesterday when she had rushed into the kitchen and operated on me.

I slowly spooned the soup into my mouth. Rolling the flavor across my tongue. It was decidedly not English soup. It was not bad, but it was different.

“Do you like it? Its not something you eat for pleasure. It has many nutrients that will help you recover.  A special blend passed down from my mother.”

I looked towards the window. “I am grateful.”

“Well I am as well. People are treating me much differently around here. I suppose it is all thanks to you and your protection.”

“Mutualism.” I spoke frankly.

“Yes indeed, mutualism. Anyways, I do have other appointments today. But first I will have to change your dressing.”

As she carefully unwrapped me. Taking special care in making sure the wound did not open. I asked her, “What is your name?”

She looked up sharply which put her face in close proximity to mine. I could count the lashes on her heart shaped face how she had natural flush to her. Not any powder or rouge covering her cheeks.

“You can call me Shinal.”

“Not Doctor Shinal?” I said jokingly to her.

“Not unless you want too. I spent many years earning my degrees, but I did not do it to force people to address me with that title.”

“Then you can call me Tommy instead of Sir.”

She smiled, and I could see than even in this trodden world, even her knowing the ugliness in people, she still smiled so easily.

“Then its agreed. Tom.” And she held out her hand for another handshake.

And I didn’t have the urge to correct her as I gripped her hand lightly.

.

.

.

 

“Where are you from?”

 I was all patched up now after a week had passed since I had been shot.  I let her have a blank check when it came to the Garrison, but she never ordered anything other than hot cider and tea. She sniffed her nose when it came to beer and alcohol.

And currently she was again infuriatingly in men’s trousers and a buttoned white shirt while holding a warm cup to her hands. 

“From America, I believe I told you this.”

I waved a hand at that. “Yes, yes you are supremely educated in those colonial states, but what are you exactly.” Were pants normal in that culture?

She blinked, “ A women-“ she meant _a girl_ “-a doctor, a person, an American-“

“Don’t be dense with me.” She let that innocent mask flutter off before laughing.

And I couldn’t help but watch her as she crinkled her eyes and gave a wide smile while swaying slightly. She was the type to be free and unreserved, I realized that early on.

“Fine then Tom. I am not Chinese. But something else. I will let you guess. I know there is a pool going around on this subject.”

That was true and Polly and Ada were in on it. As was everyone else in the Peaky Blinders. She had became there number one gossip after she pulled the bullet out in under half a minute. Men were placing down future instruction that they wanted the new girl to take care of them if they get shot and that they didn’t want anyone else’s grubby hands on them.  Women or not, she had skill. It did not take long for the men to realize they rather have a pretty little thing looking after them then the drunk Dr. Segert who haunted the bars. Four people had died in his care just in the last year.

I saw Polly rounded the corner in the bar, giving a pointed glance at the girl than at me.  Polly was betting on Korean and Ada said Japanese. Arthur had taken a look and stated it must be both, but he in a moment of not complete idiocy placed a small bet on this assumption.

Although the girl was not what Polly had in mind when she had started introducing the topic of marriage earlier this year. It did not take long for her to make her opinion of Shinal clear.

_She is a good girl Tommy. Not many like her. She has brains and look at what she can do. I heard about her, before you gave her your protection. She is kind to the people. They all like her, and I will not allow her to go to any of those IRA or factory scavengers. A damn bloody waste._

I took another look at her while she sipped her brew.  Her eyes at that kind of clarity that could look right into your soul. She gave off a distinct aura. Kind but definitely not the kind of girl you can take home for the night. It would be akin to asking a women of the cloth. But she was progressive or odd wearing pants while all the other women in the city wore dresses and skirts. Still much better than me and my dark heart.

I downed the cup of whiskey I had much to the distaste of the women seated next to me.

I saw her watch me with a disproving look. “You will kill your liver and keel over before you start to even worry about old age”

I spread my hands wide as I got up from the chair and headed to where the boys were in the back waiting for another haul tonight.

“And that is only if the bullets don’t do me in even earlier than that.”

She didn’t find that funny. But for some reason I found her scowling face even more adorable. That revelation of which had over the course of the week with her had stopped surprising me. But I would never tell her so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. house call

She had a classical quaint house. Not in the muck and filth like the rest of us, but a little yard with the house made sturdy with red bricks. I could see little saplings surrounded by a dirt darker than the surrounding.

She was making a home.

I knocked on the oak door, it was mid day and she should be in.  It opened a moment later revealing her with an updo and a long white cotton jacket with a _Park_ embroidered on the left above a pen pocket over a loose brown blouse. She was directly eye level. I glanced down to see her wearing sturdy strapped shoes with a small lift.

Pragmatic Shinal. She raised an eyebrow at my perusal and did her own slow look up and down. Ending with a small huff but I could tell she was amused. I always had my jackets pressed and golden hand watch pinned to my pockets. I knew it was far from the ruffled unkempt appearance of the city, I made sure of that. 

I leaned against the door side secretly pleased to she did not seem to have anything to complain about. 

“Will you invite me in?” I asked her.

“Did you learn your manners from a vampire, Tom? You did not even give a greeting.”

“Hello my lady, may I come in?”  I amended.

She huffed, “Since you keep insisting. I have an hour lunch break, that is until my next patient arrives.”

She turned and walked steadily to what I assumed to be her kitchen. She had a modern but cosy home. Light grey walls and floor boards made of hard oak and cherry wood countertops. No gold platted door knobs or copper painted metals. I expected nothing less of her. From previous conservations I knew her to be unimpressed with gaudy shows, preferring instead gentle colors and combinations. For some reason it only made her look even elegant to me.

I followed along and leaned on a table while I watched her move around the kitchen. Taking something out of the stove. Cookies or some other sweet bread. The aroma filled the room immediately. I never fancied myself in having a sweet tooth.

But I quickly found myself with a warm pastry being prodded onto my closed lips.

I couldn’t even decide if this was absolute disrespect being foisted upon me. Nevertheless, trusting someone, even her, to not poison me.

But a glance at her expecting dark eyes, I slowly opening my lips.

As I let her hand feed me a bite. I chewed carefully, never letting my gaze leave her amused eyes. Glancing at the strands of hair that had escaped her styling and framed her face.

She shook her head and gaze me a distinct look as if to say _Well? How about it._

It tasted sweet and soft. It tasted like home. Not of manufactured goods where I felt the scent of gas could still linger.

“It was good, quite a pastry chef you are as well.” I murmured

“Well I do try.” She then popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth while going back to the oven to take the other trays out.

And for an inane reason gave me a thrill inside me. I who was corrupt. A verifiable degenerate who partook in the filth of the city for years. But still. It was like she dragged a finger down the naked skin of my back while I erupted in shivers, without even a touch.

“I am giving you the benefit of the doubt Thomas Shelby, that you are not carrying some disease pathogen inside you that could be transferred by saliva.”

It was times like this where I realized that she really was a doctor. It was ingrained in her and in everything she did and say. Or she was an accomplished actress.  

“None of that.  I gave you the benefit of the doubt that you were not trying to poison me. Never know when the IRA or the rivals try to recruit you to off me at last.”

She laughed. “Well that was very quickly remedied in that next second when I ate the so called poison cookie as well. A new meaning to death by pastry wouldn’t you say?”

“And so it is.” I say to her as I saw her bend over and then stand to her impressive height once more.  Graceful and slender.  She would stand head to head with John, who for perhaps the same reason never stood too close to her.

And for Arthur. But instead it was because he got drunk and couldn’t keep his mouth shut around her and was driven in mad mental circles when she countered every argument of his for a damn hour in the most infuriating fashion.  Inundated with irrational but still truthful and logical facts to where Arthur could only reply with curses while red in the face. I made sure to stay in the room in case Arthur would forget that I strictly ordered that no harm was to come to her.

It was difficult not watch it unfold for longer, but there was a schedule to keep.

“Now as interesting as it is to have Thomas Shelby in my kitchen. What is the reason behind your call?”

She was now seated on the dining table with an assortment of cut vegetables and slices of ham.  The way she prepared it made it look quite appealing.

She gestured to the seat next to her where a plate had been set.

I took the seat, but I much rather eat than partake in any myself. Having had meal before coming here, which I told her.

“The reason, is that my brother Arthur is having some difficulties…” I watched her throat work as she sipped on a glass of water.

“Any further explanation would be helpful.” She replied drily.

“He is having fits since coming to the war. Angry and violent. Tried to take his life. They gave him barium and opium to deal with it, but it makes him slow. I cannot have that.”

“It sounds like shell-shock to me.” She said while cutting through the ham.

She continued. “I did tell you I am an oral doctor correct? As I told everyone else. But it seems I may be speaking some other language, my own native tongue perhaps. For it seems people keep coming to me with different problems. I take them anyways due to my experience in those general cases, because I know I have the skill the handle them like a certified professional would as it falls close to my umbrella. But what you need for Arthur is a psychiatrist. He has no teeth problems, its mental.”

She placed down her fork. Giving me an exasperated look. “First the bullet and now this. Well in your case your lucky. I do have some minor research in this field as well. Get rid of the Barium and for love’s sake get rid of the opium. No alcohol for him either. There is a plant handled by the Spaniards in the south. A very specific name, Northern lights cannabis indica. It has the lowest health drawbacks and it seems to have a good run on the patients afflicting by shell shock. It will keep him from the edge. It is better than the Tokyo and race drug that has been infecting the cities.”

“Thank you, I will make note of that. The alcohol…even I could do nothing about that. He drinks more alcohol than water.” _Like a thirsy horse guzzling in the river._

She rolled her eyes, “His funeral. That is not sustainable. He needs to drink water.” She tapped on her own glass of water.

“Will you see him?” I wanted to see her more in the house, in my house.

She looked exasperated. “Did you hear me Tom. I am not a psychologist or a psychiatrist. And my office is next door, he would need to come there to receive treatment like everybody else.”

“For me Shinal.” I asked her. Trying to imbue the word with what I could not say. “He would never come. The town will think something is wrong with him.”

“Something is wrong with hi-“ She said quite firmly but I interrupt her,

 “But nevertheless. Nevertheless Shinal, would you visit the house once. Get a look at him. We do not trust anyone else.”

She leaned back in her seat. Giving me the full force of her chocolate eyes, the proud tilt of her eyebrows and pink strained pursed lips.

“You are more trouble than you are worth Tom. Your good looks will only take you so far.”

“You think I am appealing, sweet girl?”

She wrinkled her nose.

_Adorable._

“I will visit on the weekend, I am off then. Now shoo, Tom. My receptionist will be here soon, and although trustworthy, I rather not chance her spewing all types of stories when she sees you.”

Even with my proclaimed poker face. Where I stood cold and unyielding in front of murderers and thieves with pistols aimed at my head. I had a hard time making the smile on my face fade away as I was escorted out of her home and waved off while I got onto my motorvehicle.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something different and Cillian murphy's dreamy eyes as Tommy got me struck. If you also have an nonsensical crush on the actor or the man- let me know.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic LET ME KNOW. If people like it I do have some other ideas for later chapters.


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